“What are you doing after this?” I ask. “After Friday? Do you have any other jobs lined up?”
She shrugs. “I’m a free agent. I can make some calls. Find some work, I’m sure. The city’s full of places needing people like me. Not everyone can spin straw into gold.”
“Work here,” I say. “We’re hiring a VP of Public Affairs and Marketing. You’d be perfect.”
Her rosy lips pull up halfway. “Wow…I don’t know what to say.”
“You can start by accepting and finish by naming your salary. The job is yours if you want it.”
“Can I think about it? Let you know by the end of the week?”
“What’s there to think about?”
Her gaze falls to the side as she worries her lip.
“It’s Jeremiah.” Fucking Jeremiah. “He doesn’t want you working here anymore.”
“I’d never allow a man to dictate where I work.” Her hands cross at her heart. “It’s just that something about me working with you makes him uncomfortable, and I’m trying to figure out why that would be.”
“He’s insecure.”
“It’s more than that,” she says. “I spent the weekend asking myself some pretty tough questions. Didn’t come up with a single answer. I hardly recognize half the things my heart tells me to do anymore. Maybe I’ll go back home for a bit. Spend time with family. Take some freelance jobs I can do remotely.”
“Walking away isn’t going to solve your problems.” I speak from experience. “It tends to make them worse.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phil.” She playfully punches my arm. “I’ll take that into consideration.”
Once again, I’m back in the friend zone. She shut me down. The distance between us widens, but maybe it’s for the best. Getting attached to anyone right now is irresponsible.
“Did you get the nursery put together this weekend?” I’m almost relieved for the change in subject. “Or is she still sleeping in a bassinet in your room?”
I’m in survival mode. Cribs and butterfly nursery art are the least of my concerns. “Not yet.”
“What?” Odessa’s brows furrow. “Why not?”
“I’m a little preoccupied. Still getting a handle on this whole dad thing.”
“Do you want help? I planned my niece, Aubrey’s, nursery when my sister in law was on bed rest and my brother was in Afghanistan.”
“I was going to hire this company to handle it, but yeah, I guess so?” I scratch my temple. A second ago she was slapping me and now she’s planning Sadie’s room.
“Give me your credit card.” Her palm extends toward my face. “I’ll have everything shipped to your place. We can put it together later this week. Sadie needs a room of her own.”
My lips separate as I debate telling her I’m terrified of not hearing Sadie in the middle of the night. My place is huge. The walls are thick and soundproof. If she needs me, if she needs anything, I want to be right there.
“And don’t worry about not hearing her.” Odessa reads my mind. “That’s what video monitors are for. You’ll be able to see and hear everything from anywhere in your home.”
I stave off an amused grin before pulling my wallet out. I can’t believe I’m doing this.
“Here you go.”
Odessa disappears into her office, and I return to my desk to answer the ringing phone. My chest pounds for a second as I assume the worst. Something’s happened to Sadie. Eva’s out of the hospital. Nothing worse than scooping my broken little world up into my arms only to have it all fall apart again.
Dane’s number flashes across the caller ID.
“What’s going on?” I cradle my desk phone on my shoulder, simultaneously texting Elizabeth to check on Sadie before I get too busy and forget.
“It’s Uncle Leo.” Dane’s voice is flat. Blood whooshes in my ears and my mouth dries. I can’t swallow, and I can hardly breathe. I’ve never lost anyone I loved before, not through death.
Oh, God.
Last weekend, Dane texted me to let me know he’d gotten sick shortly after we left Utah. He was admitted to the hospital while I was still figuring everything out with Eva and the baby.
I should’ve called.
I should’ve fucking called.
“He’s in hospice.” Dane is a mastermind at hiding emotion in his voice, but I know deep down, he’s taking this harder than I am.
“He’s still alive?”
“Yeah, but the doctors say it’s going to be any day now. You need to come home.”
“Fuck.” I slink back in my chair. “He was fine two weeks ago?”